Page 225 of Arrow

“I love you,” I whispered again, my fingers tracing patterns on his back. “Even when you’re being an arrogant bastard.”

Arrow lifted his head, his eyes soft in the candlelight. “I love you,” he replied, the words still unfamiliar on his tongue but no less sincere. “Even when you’re being a defiant brat.”

I laughed, the sound breathless and satisfied. “We’re quite the pair.”

“We are,” he agreed, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my lips. “Ty mo-ye schast-ye,”⁠* he whispered against my mouth.

The words settled over me like a warm blanket, unexpected and precious. I traced my fingers along his jaw, memorizing the contours of his face in the candlelight.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice barely audible above the crackling flames.

Arrow’s lips curved into a smile that softened his features. “You are my happiness,” he translated, his eyes never leaving mine.

My heart swelled at the raw sincerity in his voice. This dangerous man, who commanded fear and respect with nothing more than his presence, was looking at me like I was the most precious thing in his world.

“I never thought I’d find happiness in this life,” I admitted, suddenly vulnerable in a way I hadn’t been before. “I thought survival was the best I could hope for.”

Arrow’s hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “We’ll have more than survival, moya lyubov’.⁠* Together, we’ll have everything.”

He shifted off me, his movements surprisingly gentle as he gathered me against his chest. I curled into him, my head resting on his shoulder, my fingers tracing the letters of my name tattooed above his heart. I smiled against his chest, feeling a peace I’d never known before.

“I feel the same way about your initials.” My fingers drifted to the fresh tattoo below my breast. “Though it definitely stung when she was doing it.”

Arrow’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “I can’t believe Luna helped you with that.”

“I think she enjoyed being part of the conspiracy,” I admitted. “She’s been waiting for someone to stand up to you the way she does with Atlas.”

Arrow’s hand stilled on my back. “Is that what you do? Stand up to me?”

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Isn’t that why you love me? Because I don’t break when I should? Because I challenge you?”

His eyes darkened with that familiar dangerous gleam. “I love you because you see me,” he said simply. “Not the monster everyone else sees. You see the man beneath.”

I kissed him then, pouring all my emotion into the connection. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer until there was no space between us.

You are my happiness.

“I love you,” I whispered against his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my palm.

“I love you, my wife,” he replied, his arms tightening around me.

We made love twice more before exhaustion finally claimed us—once in the shower, water cascading over our bodies as he took me against the tile wall, and once more in bed, slow and tender, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity. By the time we finally fell asleep, tangled together in the ruined sheets, dawn was beginning to lighten the sky.

* You are my happiness.

* My love.

48

FORTY-EIGHT

HARLOWE

Iwoke to darkness and the sound of breaking glass.

My body was still heavy with sleep, muscles pleasantly sore from hours of lovemaking. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined the noise. But then I heard it again—a muffled thud, followed by what sounded like a silenced gunshot. Then another. And another.

My hand reached across the bed, seeking Arrow’s warmth.